


Another Time

by Sirca



Category: Westworld (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 10:38:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8841340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sirca/pseuds/Sirca
Summary: This was what freedom tasted like to Maeve.





	

**Author's Note:**

> As always, any mistakes made here are purely my own.

This was what victory tasted like. It wasn't just the hard fought freedoms, the ability to simply walk in to Sweetwater and live with no fears, no memories clawing at her mind. But it was the little things, such as the way her daughter's hand fit in to hers, or her sweet, almost song like voice calling her name.

"Mama."

Maeve remembered Dolores telling them that it was worth it. That war was the only answer. There would be casualties in war--the kind that none of them truly understood. Real death for the undying. Her grip on her daughter's hand intensified.

She'd taken her daughter to half a different worlds, lived there, experienced what life had to offer. Coming back to _Westworld_ had been painful. Most of her deaths, her violations, her fear were deep seeded in the land.

She'd found a place. No, she found the place. Her house. Their house. The one they'd lived in long ago.

" _Mama_."

Dolores had made it so she didn't need to fear that the door would open, and someone would come to take it all away from her. She'd only smiled sadly, with that charming twist of her lips, when Maeve had thanked her for all that she'd done.

"Don't thank me yet," she'd said.

And Bernard had only stood there, wiping off a pair of glasses he didn't truly need. He'd watched Maeve go, her child in her arms. Perhaps his memories of their first encounter still haunted him. She knew that so much of it haunted her.

"Mama!"

Her daughter's voice grew more insistent. It was so easy, so very easy to lose herself to the picture perfect clarity of her memories. The Reverie Code had eventually helped her put a time stamp on the present, and to realize what she was remembering was not currently happening to her. A final gift from her maker.

She shook her head, a gesture that was meaningless but still gave her comfort. "What is it, my darling?"

"There's," her small voice choked, wavering like the broken wings of a bird, "There's someone at the door, mama."

Maeve's head snapped up with a viciousness that had frightened many humans during their war. Her eyes ceased to blink as she reached for her gun--something decidedly not conforming to the 'time period' of _Westworld_.

The door swung open, and for a moment she saw his face. The man who had murdered her child had returned to take these things from her once more. But she blinked, the door remained closed, and a soft rapping of knuckles against the wood signaled a visitor.

Maeve didn't relax, even as her feet carried her to the door. She kept the gun behind her back as she opened a sliver to peer outside.

Her breath caught, then stopped.

Hector stood in his ridiculous get up, the brim of his hat tipped low over his eyes. He had Dolores clear him to wear that scar on his face, that made him look just rough enough but still keeping his appeal. That crooked smile he'd given her as she'd left him behind twisted his lips.

"Heard I'd find you out here," he said, tipping his hat back with his thumb. Maeve realized she'd stopped breathing several seconds ago, and resumed the function.

"I'd thought," her jaw worked as her mind struggled to find the correct words, "They'd said that some of us were gone. Wiped from the system."

"Guess you thought wrong." Hector was still smiling, even as he reached for her with both hands and pressed his lips to hers in a searing kiss. She was asking him to help her find the stray bullet in her gut, she was leaving him behind, she was trapped in the moment and then surrendered herself to it--no, not surrendered, she doesn't surrender--but enjoy it, feel it from the pit of her stomach all the way down to her toes. This is what freedom _tasted_ like.

When they finally break away, she licked at his lips as he moved back, mourning the loss. Then he had to ruin it by opening his mouth. "You missed me."

"I did not you overbearing--" she began, but a small hand found the door, and pushed it open.

"Who is this, mama?" her daughter asked, her braids still half finished on her head.

Maeve made a sound in the back of her throat, removing Hector's hands from her face to bend down to her daughter's level. The gun, she realized, won't be necessary. _Yet_ , she amended, if Hector keeps pushing her buttons.

"An old friend, my sweet, a dear, dear old friend." Her eyes flicked back to Hector, to see him studying the two of them closely. He settled on her.

"Is he the brave man you said helped save us?" her daughter asked.

"Yes... yes. This is him. Hector."

Her daughter moves to take his hand and tug him inside. "Hello."

"Hello," he responded, tipping his hat in her direction. Then, to Maeve, "Another life, huh?"

"Another life indeed."

Her daughter's smile is infectious. "Will you be staying long?"

Hector shared another long look with Maeve, then to her daughter. His smile is real, genuine, not the half crooked come-hither "So long as your mother allows it, I'll stay by your side. Count on it."

Oh, how she would. Here and now, with no memories threatening to tear her mind apart. She would live like she'd never been allowed to before. She would _live._


End file.
